


Blush & Peel

by Elphen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beaches, Comfort, Fluff, Insecurities, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Swimming, good boyfriends, made me smile to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and John decide that a rare, sunny day ought to mean a day on the beach with their significant others. What they hadn't expected on was that, although the Holmes brothers did agree to come, the doctor and the inspector would be the only ones to don appropriate clothing for the location and weather.<br/>That doesn't mean they have to just put up with it, does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush & Peel

**Author's Note:**

> This was born out of a heat-wave we had two years ago. I talked with someone about Brits tanning and we agreed that the polite term for what they do is more 'blush and peel'. Obviously that's not the case for everyone, I know, but it got me to think of what became this fic. I found it the other day, with it mostly done, and decided to finish it.
> 
> It ties in with Substituting a Holmes, but it isn't necessary to read that one to hopefully enjoy this :)

“They aren’t going to come out, are they?”

“I definitely wouldn’t bet on it, no,” Greg replied, raking a hand over his face in an effort to get the excess water off it. With a hand that was just as wet as the face it was attempting to dry it didn’t do much good, however. He wiped it on his trunks a few times and tried again, this time moderately succeeding.

 He opened his eyes to see John grinning at him only to have to shield his eyes a moment later as more water came splashing at him.

“Oi!” he shouted in indignation that was mostly feigned. “That wasn’t fair!” He tried shaking the water off this time.

John’s almost signature giggle could be heard. “No, but it was fun. Come on, you can’t be in the water without splashing. It’s practically a rule.”

Greg found himself grinning back. “True. But then it should be a rule that you can’t come all the way to a beach in high summer and stay on the sand, let alone stay fully dressed.”

They both looked up the beach to where a rather large parasol was erected and two long-limbed, overdressed bodies sat primly on garden chairs of a proper standard, a small table between them.

“I suppose we should be grateful Sherlock’s not wearing his Belstaff – or Mycroft his umbrella,” John mused, then sighed. “Come on, let’s get up there and give it another go. It’s downright ridiculous, this is.”

They trudged up out of the water and along the beach, kicking up sand as they walked that ended up clinging to their wet feet and legs. On the way they were waylaid by a young woman who wondered if they’d be kind enough to help set up her own parasol so she could keep her toddler in check.

“That bikini should definitely have been a size or two bigger,” Greg commented as they started walking towards the two Holmes brothers.

“Like you were complaining. You know, there’s nothing wrong with looking, but I don’t think you’re allowed to actually ogle someone other than your partner,” John teased gently.

“I didn’t ogle!” Lestrade protested. “It’s hard _not_ to look just a tiny bit when she’s three feet away and bending over in that...excuse for a bikini. Anyway, it’s not like helping her out is going to help your good graces with Sherlock either.”

“No, but I’m used to that. He tends to look somewhat unfavourably at every attempt I make to help someone these days, male or female. I’m guessing it’s down to insecurity he won’t admit to.”

_Or some rather potent possessiveness_ , the detective inspector supplied in his mind. There was no need to alarm John with it, if he wasn’t aware of it himself and was only sidestepping it, but he himself had been on the receiving end of Mycroft’s possessive streak more than once and he doubted very much that the brothers differed significantly in that area.

They’d come up to where the two Holmes brothers were sitting by this point and indeed, it was calm and slightly disapproving stares that met them. Those stares did rake over their figures once or twice, though, taking in the view, though doing it as discreetly as possible.

“Come on, the two of you,” Greg began in a coercing tone of voice, hands on his hips. “This is ridiculous – whoever heard of anyone coming to the beach in _suits_? Loosen up a little, yeah?”

Sherlock only favoured him with a raised eyebrow and a snort for his troubles, while Mycroft, though looking just as unimpressed as his brother, did deign to answer him after a while of silence.

“Surely you realize the idiocy of that statement, my dear Greg,” he said in that infuriatingly calm way of his. “We agreed to come with you to the beach for the day and here we are. If neither of us plans to swim, I fail to see the point of wearing anything other than our usual attire.”

Greg gaped at his lover, but it did seem that he was being perfectly serious. He then shot a glance at the doctor, looking for some support. What he got wasn’t at all what he was expecting, however.

“Right – you’re of the same opinion then, Sherlock?” John asked. A curt nod confirmed it. “Alright then, not much to be done about it, I suppose. Greg, if you’ll collect our clothes and start taking the parasol down, I’ll go and fetch the car.”

“You what?” It was the inspector who voiced it, but that thought was also evident on not only his face, but also the normally far more neutral faces of the two brothers.

“Well, if they’re not going to come out from under this thing,” John said, pointing to the parasol,” there isn’t really much point in coming to the beach in the first place, is there? We could just as well spend the day in London where there’s a chance they’d actually want to be seen with us, so let’s pack up.” With that, he turned and began walking.

Lestrade followed him and was about to open his mouth in order to protest when he saw the look in the doctor’s eye. _Ah_.

Before he had a chance to acknowledge much of anything, though, Sherlock was pushing past him and towards John and Mycroft was calling his name.

He turned, expecting to get another ‘reasonable’ argument, only to find an expression he had so rarely, if ever, seen on the face of the elder Holmes that it took him a few moments to work out what it actually was; awkwardness coupled with just a smidgeon of embarrassment. He almost burst out laughing at the surreal absurdity of it but managed to curtail it and just as well. It would not have been appropriate at all in the circumstances.

He did have to ask, though. “What?”

“It’s not...a good time of year,” Mycroft began, uncharacteristically hesitant. Under Greg’s raised eyebrow, he clarified, though clearly rather reluctantly. “For Sherlock and I. We tend to … follow the propensity of a good portion of the British population in regards to being out in the sun.”

It took a moment or two for light to dawn, but when it did, Greg couldn’t help his grin. “You mean – you two actually blush and peel?”

Mycroft’s lips became a thin line as he withdrew emotionally, starting to slam his defences back up. “I fail to see the humour in that.” His tone was coolly detached, but the inspector had learned a few things about his partner in the time they’d been together; the ginger was hurt and trying not to let on.

“Hey, now,” he said softly, drawing close to his partner without touching him. That would have to be Mycroft’s decision. “It’s a bit funny that the man who runs the country is scared of a bit of sun, you have to admit that. Doesn’t stop it from also being rather endearing, too, though.”

He let his arm drop and felt a smooth, long-fingered hand slide into his own almost immediately. He smiled. “All I wanted…all _we_ wanted,” he corrected himself, “was to spend one of the few good days of summer that we’re probably going to get out here in the sun with the partners we love, showing you off a bit. That’s not so terribly wrong, is it?”

He did not get a verbal answer and neither did he get anything as overt as a shake of the head. What he got instead was downcast eyes and a lightning quick wetting of lips. To someone who was sufficiently familiar with the elder Holmes brother in his somewhat more unguarded moments, it might as well have been a neon sign.

Greg was just about to say something, but he was interrupted by the voices of the two Baker Street residents, clearly to be heard as they came nearer. Both he and Mycroft began to listen in.

“Who the hell _cares_ if you get as red as a ruddy lobster?! It’s not like the British population is known for their tanning abilities!”

“That’s not the point!” Sherlock growled back. “It’s about professionalism!”

You have been lying on the sofa for a bloody fortnight, it’s not like you’re swamped in cases that are going to be compromised if your nose is red.”

There was a pause. Then John spoke again. “Oh, you utterly daft sod, why can’t you just say ‘I love you’ like everyone else? You don’t have to look impeccable all the time for me to find you fascinating and gorgeous. In fact, I think you’d look a bit cute with a reddened nose.”

Greg looked back at his partner; they were both smiling broadly, closing in on grins.

“Right, then. Shall we go and see if the two other idiots fancy going for a 99 and a walk along the pier?”

Mycroft’s smile turned grateful and thankful. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing much to say, really. I enjoy writing these four working off each other - oh, and I'm aware that Benedict tans. I'm not so sure that Sherlock would, however. That's my little headcanon, at least :)  
> Feedback is as always loved and treasured :)


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